


Unseeing

by Katology



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: - Chapter two -, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, BAMF Lily Evans Potter, Dark Harry Potter, Death Eaters, Irony, M/M, No Horcruxes, Non-Graphic Rape, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, brief mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-19 00:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18128804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katology/pseuds/Katology
Summary: Soulmate AU.No one is the same when your soulmate dies. The least of your worries is the initial agony.Not quite a tomarrymort story.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a harsh, feminine yell.

 

“JAMES!”

 

Loud footsteps paced through the halls, rushing towards the urgent call of his wife. Lily Potter was near the fireplace, the green dissipating with faint sparks. Her head of fiery red hair jerked towards James with a grimace. The couple just stared at each other for a beat.

 

James opened his mouth to ask, but Lily hurriedly interrupted.

 

“Dumbledore called,” she said solemnly, darkly. And James understood immediately.

 

“Raid?” he inquired, already grabbing his battle robes from the cabinet near the rust-colored brick.

 

“Worse, Voldemort is there,”

 

That gave James pause. But he shook his head and threw off his clothes with impressive efficiency. The discarded garments laid in an undignified heap on the wooden floor.

 

“Harry is at the weasley's. He should be fine,” he said, buttoning the cloak along his chest, “Can you send a patronus? Let him know?”

 

He threw Lily’s maroon robes towards her as she nodded and began the incantation. Once her infamous doe appeared, she spoke tersely, “Harry, there is another raid. We don't know how long it will take, but stay at the weasley's until further notice,” she paused, her tone softening along with her emerald eyes, “We love you lots Harry, don't you forget it,”

 

The silvery doe nodded and gracefully trotted, dissipating into familiar sparks of toned gold as it made towards her destination.

 

James let out a sighed breath, “Lily, we should've told him that Voldemort is there,”

 

Resolutely, Lily shook her head, “No. We don't need him to worry,”

 

“But, Harry is already worrying; he always does,”

 

Still, Lily just slid her deceptively delicate arms through the sleeves of the robes, “Well, Harry does not need to worry any further,”

 

Her tone was tinged with a stark finality. And James huffed before his face turned emotionless. Lily did the same, ready to face the Death Eaters; and perhaps, most importantly, Lord Voldemort himself.

 

“You’ll be alright?” he asked, hiding his desperation.

 

She _needed_ to stay safe. It was unthinkable for her not to be.

 

Love shone in her eyes and she pecked his lips with a chaste, but adoring kiss, “For you, of course I will be,” she said fondly, before letting out a snort, “I'm practically invincible. Don't you know?”

 

He laughed himself, “Of course I know, love,”

 

With a final shared smile, Lily was the first who walked into the fireplace; eyes burning with a vengeance. She grabbed floo-powder, the dust pinched between her fingers. With a final breath, she yelled out, “Dumbledore Grove!”

 

She vanished with a cloak of emerald flames, swirling away into a faint smoke.

 

James closed his eyes tightly, gripping his wand with a crushing grip. Fear was still ever present, despite the _delusions_ that they were unaffected by the Dark Lord and his followers. Emotionless masks did nothing to diminish the terror churning his insides.

 

It was a few seconds later that he went through the floo, stepping out gracefully to find all the other order members murmuring in soft tones. James nodded his head at a grave Dumbledore and he nodded back. The headmaster turned his face to the rest with a wry smile.

 

“Good luck,” Dumbledore intoned to the gathered witches and wizards. His voice was saturated with a sort of powerful certitude; piercing blue eyes scrutinizing.

 

There was a conspicuous lack of twinkle in eyes; a sure sign that this would not be a pleasant battle.

 

Though, no battle truly is pleasant in the least.

 

They all grabbed a hold of the phoenix-embellished medallion, a portkey in which they held with a firm grip. There was chilling and condemning rush of air. And so, they vanished only to appear within a gory bloodbath.

 

The first kill was made when Harry received his Father's patronus, warning him that Voldemort would be at the raid himself.

 

* * *

 

“Harry,” Ron said, rubbing his back comfortingly, “Your parents are badass. They’ll be fine,”

 

Harry stared incredulous at his red-haired friend, “ _Ron._ You-Know-Who is there. It doesn't matter how _badass_ they…” he choked on the word, “- _they_ are. They could die,”

 

Tears gushed down his face at the pronouncement. With a sniffle, he took off his glasses and wiped his eyes.

 

“I don't know what I'd do if they got hurt,” he admitted, shuddering at the thought. He put his glasses back on, “Oh god,” he said horrified.

 

“ _They could die,”_ he murmured numbly.

 

“Harry. They'll be alright. You heard your mum, stay here until they come back. They _will_ come back,”

 

“You don't know that,” he said heatedly, eyes boring into Ron’s own earnestly.

 

“You don't know that,” Harry murmured desperately. He curled in on himself, shuddering in fear at the terrible thoughts ravaging his mind. All it would take is a few more missteps, and the fears could become tangible; become true. All it would take was a single mistake, and either might get hurt.  (or both he thought terrified)

 

Or worse…

 

He didn't want to dwell on the possibilities. But it was impossible not to. _Mum_ and _Dad_ were facing the _Dark Lord._

 

Someone who was known not to leave survivors. And honestly… it is Harry’s opinion that the dead are lucky. Those who are captured are tortured until their minds break, and then-

 

And only then…

 

… does Voldemort allow them a luxury; allows their body to break along with their mind, finally giving them a reprieve within the oblivion that is death.

 

Harry was thrown out of his bleak thoughts when Ron let out a sort sigh.

 

He looked decidedly sympathetic, though not all all pitying. His eyes were alight with a mournful glimmer; and with a squeeze of his shoulder, he patted his back, “Come on. There's no point in worrying,”

 

Ron continued, “Let's go grab something from the kitchen. Maybe food will help you feel better,”

 

Harry kept his thoughts to himself and nodded numbly. Ron pursed his lips at the tear tracks on Harry’s face, yet it was emotionless and pale white.

 

It wasn't fair. If Ron had anything to say about it, fuck You-Know-Who. Harry’s parents priorities should be Harry himself. Not a war. And certainly not one that they are in the front lines of.

 

There was a creak in protest as they stood from the worn couch.

 

“I think there is a leftover chicken sandwich,” Ron said encouragingly.

 

* * *

 

 

Lily ducked when _another_ bone-breaker streaked overhead. She blew a strand of red hair out of her face and shot another spell with a yell of, _“Visus Tenebri!”_

 

The Death Eater screamed in frustration as his vision got cloaked by an inky darkness.

 

There was another. And another. They all dropped like flies.

 

A poisonous green light, duck behind an embellished chair.

 

Bright red, lunge. Shoot back with a glare that matches the burning of your blood.

 

Lily was in her element; weaving through the barrage of spells and curses like she was _born_ to fight- born with the capabilities of ruthless thought and action equally. Her mind was blissfully empty, gone was all the fears. There was only a pounding adrenaline.

 

The glittering chandelier overhead trembled from a nearby explosion. Earthquake-like tremors sped through the halls. Dust fell down from the ceiling in a warning.

 

With a gulped breath, she looked down and grimaced. Crimson red droplets covered her forearms in a splatter. The small cuts littered her limbs, obviously from the very recognizable _Sectumsempra_ curse.

 

Who knew that her old childhood friend Snape shared his pride and joy-

 

_(the spells that he worked so hard on, the spells that caused the elusive pucker on his brow to form)_

 

-to his fellow magical-nazis.

 

Lily growled when a stray spell edged across her torso, another cut slicing with a sharp tang. It was deeper this time, and she whirled around; becoming face to face with the smug face of Mulciber.

 

A crooked smile, wild eyes and stringy brown hair stood trembling from the high of the resulting bloodshed, from the _pleasure._ As he jabbed his wand, a bright orange spear headed straight in her direction.

 

She didn't have time to put up a shield. The blood-boiling curse slowed down as the passage in time slowed in tandem.

 

Though she would never admit it, she was terrified. Not for herself, however.

 

Harry. James. Sirius. Remus. Marlene… hell, even Dumbledore.

 

She has so many people that she would leave behind. And all can she do was brace for impact.

 

Pitiful. She was fucking pitiful.

 

A glittering pale blue exploded in her vision, a recognizable spell indeed. _Protego_.

 

Amelia Bones nodded towards her, the shield dissipating as Mulciber fell; like he was merely a puppet and his strings were cut.

 

Lily gave a grateful smile in recognition, batting away a violet curse irritably. It smashed into the adjacent wall with a flash and a scorch mark. Lily would've said “ _Thank you_ ” to her if she wasn't suddenly preoccupied with another Death Eater.  

 

She smirked. They never learned.

 

Another stunned sycophant later she was quickly healing her more pressing injuries.

 

Lily refused to let the rest of them- the burning wounds- hinder her in any way possible. At all.  She sped through the sitting room, analyzing, making decisions in response to the stimuli.

 

Deliberating.

 

Scratchy screams echoed throughout Bones Manor. She aided those on her side, a cacophony of suffering pressing her eardrums- and those of every soul present.

 

Lily dearly wished that they didn't exist entirely; but she hoped more than _anything_ that James wasn't among them.

 

Her maudlin thoughts ceased quite suddenly.

 

There was a scream that suddenly shone against the rest. Devastated, surely. Heartbroken.

 

It didn't sound familiar. It didn't sound nice. It didn't sound sane. Though, rarely screams are. This was different; somehow it was.

 

She didn't know how- or why. Lily thought that she could hear the distant wail of, “MY LORD!” ...Maybe it was just her imagination.

 

There was an elated yell and a subsequent pounding of feet. Doge appeared at the doorway, unfazed at the blood and gore surrounding her.

 

He looked entirely too _gleeful-_ for he was watching his companions die, forgoing his usual ethics to watch Death Eaters bleed with a heavy heart (one's that don't deserve such mourning).

 

“What is it?” she asked breathlessly.

 

His grin widened, showing all of his teeth. It had a painful contrast to his literal (and figuratively) blood-soaked robes and hands, “Voldemort is dead,”

 

Her eyes widened prodigiously, “... What?”  

 

There were more footsteps, and both Doge and Lily pointed their wands in the direction. They lowered them instantly, but then she choked on a relieved sob. It was her husband. _Her_ James.

 

“We did it Lily,” he said after a moment of an almost necessary silence, “Dumbledore killed the bastard,”

 

She was still stunned, and she couldn't breathe. All she did- all she could do- is run up to him and inhale deeply into her husband’s shoulder.

 

Tears ran down her face and she sagged at the familiar touch. James wrapped his strong arms around her fiercely, and everything finally felt right. After many years of fighting; and they were saying _he_ was dead.

 

After all, Dumbledore assured that he had destroyed all the horcruxes. Voldemort was gone for real. Forever. They were all safe.  

 

Harry was safe. He could live the rest of his life without fear of suffering and tyranny.

 

Lily smiled at the thought. All was well.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry sat at the rickety wooden stool near the counter, mechanically eating the sandwich.

 

It was tasteless. A far cry from the usual rich flavors of rotisserie chicken, lettuce, and mustard. It was like sawdust in his mouth.

 

He couldn't even get enough saliva to swallow it down. His mind was just an unforgiving whirlwind of worries and anxiety.

 

_What if-_

 

_Mum-_

 

_Dad-_

 

_They could die-_

 

Harry clenched his fingers tighter and the bread squashed beneath his fingers. Ron looked up from his own and sat it down on his napkin, “You don’t have to eat it if you can't, mate,”

 

Harry lips quirked in a minute smile, before disappearing almost immediately, “No. It's fine,” he said, “I guess that if I pretend that everything is alright, that everything will be alright; I can have a bit of normalcy,”

 

“I could pretend that my parents will be okay,”

 

Harry let out a choked sob, tears running down his face in salty tracks. His brilliant green eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, lips quivering, “I just want them _home,”_ he muttered.

 

Ron’s heart shattered, “Me too,” he said sadly, “I couldn't imagine what you must be going through. It's not like my parents are active members in the Order,”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said, obviously lost in his own thoughts.

 

Harry stood from the chair. It screeched where the legs dragged across the floor. With a shuddering sigh, he walked towards the couch. He wanted a nap.

 

The heavy footsteps walked lazily through the room, before quieting.

 

Harry suddenly stood shock still; still as if a whisper can tip him over. Brows furrowing in confusion, Ron turned his head and opened his mouth, “Har-”

 

Then there was a heart-wrenching scream. And he collapsed with a thud. Ron's heart pounded in his chest; fluttering and trying to break free from its confines, “HARRY?!”

 

He sped over towards the prone boy and kneeled, breathing heavily, “Harry?” he whispered.

 

His friend was trembling, fingers twitching with restrained motion. Harry’s face screwed in pain, and there was a desperate scream.

 

“TOM!”

 

Ron didn't know who Tom was. However, he had a niggling suspicion; there could be no other reason for _this_ to occur. But this can't be happening; this is too much for a 13 year old boy. He shouldn't have go through this.

 

His gaze and focus was set onto Harry, who was convulsing in pain. Crimson red blood started to peak out on his forehead, dripping slowly.

 

Right where his soulmark was.

 

_Oh. He was…  right._

 

Ron put a gentle hand on his shoulder, eyes tight with horror. He didn't know what to do. He has no idea what to do when someone just lost their soulmate. This is not uncommon- collapsing and having an unbearable fiery pain consume you.

 

And then Harry stopped writhing, pain abating as he sagged with a soft inhale. Ron closed his eyes against the unbelievable dread. He had witnessed the last of the Harry he knew and loved.

 

No one is the same after losing their soulmate.

 

“Harry?” he asked softly, shaking him gently by his shoulders.

 

Ron braced himself, watching avidly; for Harry would wake any time now.

 

It took another few seconds, but Harry opened his eyes as if startled. The bright emerald green was dull, and he turned to look at Ron silently. His skin was pale, and face emotionless. He didn't look alive. It was like someone was controlling him; mechanically moving.

 

Harry stood (silently) and walked to the couch. And sat down. (silently)

 

He just stared.

 

And stared.

 

And stared.

 

Ron felt a tear drip down his face.

 

Who was Tom?


	2. Chapter 2

There was a sudden bright green light; flames lurching out of the fireplace with a crackling hiss. Ron jerked his head up from Harry’s still form, a man with messy brown hair and tan skin striding out of the brick with a grin.

 

“Ronald!” he said happily, an ecstatic skip to his step. Ron cringed at the sight.

 

“Where's Harry?” he inquired, glancing back as his wife hopped into the sitting room with an equally gleeful expression. They both looked exhausted, but at the same time relaxed.

 

They evidently did not know… the _horror_ of what happened to their son.

 

“Um… Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he started hesitantly, before cringing.

 

“He's right here,” he said softly.

 

Lily’s eyebrows drew close and there was a small frown on her face, “Is he alright?”

 

Ron winced.

 

She and James sped toward the couch, concern blanketing their expressions. Lily knelt down when she saw Harry staring blankly at the wall.

 

“Harry?” she said softly, a hesitating smile curling her lips. She felt James put a hand on her shoulder and gaze at his son, “Voldemort is dead,”

 

Harry lifted his chin up, dull green eyes staring aimlessly at his parents. Lily felt something break within her, his _stare_. It was horrifying. Blank. Nothing. Unseeing. Her husband gasped softly beside her.

 

“Harry?” he said urgently, reaching his free hand to cover his hand with a warm touch, “What happened?” he demanded, wild eyes searching Ron’s.

 

Salty tears slid down Weasley’s freckled cheeks, “He collapsed, and um-” he paused, glancing at their pale faces, James’ fingers running softly through Harry’s hair, “-he screamed someones name. Tom’s,”

 

“This then happened,” gesturing towards the frozen teen, “He woke up, and then sat there. Staring at nothing,”

 

Lily quickly brushed Harry’s messy hair behind his ear, exposing his blackened soulmark. It was black and ashy, small and shrivelled.

 

She shrunk away from the sight. The hair bounced back, cloaking the mark with its black strands.

 

The Potter couple glanced at each other horrified. A sob came out of Lily’s mouth, and Harry just glanced between them both bewildered. Like he wasn’t even there, wasn’t on the right plane of existence.

 

Like he was floating through nothingness and everything in unison, watching as time flew by with blank, curious eyes.

 

They both knew what caused this… whatever _this_ was…

 

His soulmate had just died. He would slowly grow back into himself, become fully conscious of his surroundings and sense of self; but… there was absolutely zero chance that he would come out of it the same. There was no chance that he would come out the other end their exuberant, cheeky son.

 

James had seen this before. With Remus.

 

They both remembered when Sirius had gotten hit with the Killing Curse. A bright green light ravaging through the open air… until it struck him. Unexpectedly.

 

The Marauders were just strolling through Diagon Alley, blissfully unaware. Scents of candies and pork roast filled the air as laughing children and indulgent adults went from store to store.

 

Sirius had smirked and nudged his boyfriend, “Hey Moony, look,” He pointed at the muggle-foods stand and snickered, “Moon pies,”

 

Remus scoffed, but was fighting a smile. He opened his mouth to make a snarky comeback when all hell broke loose.

 

Multiple green lights came from above. It hit fleeing citizens unexpectedly. Several innocents struck the ground unseeing, not even contemplating what was going on.

 

A dull thunk rang, closer than before. And there was a terrified scream before Remus fell as well, blood rapidly forming on his shoulder.

 

Remus just sobbed as he held Sirius’ face like he was the most _precious_ thing in existence. And to him, he was.

 

Moony had left that afternoon. They had not seen him since.

 

James and Lily flew at Harry’s monotone face, sniffles and choked breaths coming off of them in their throes of agony. Identical green orbs gazed into one another. One full of sparkling grief, another with a dull, passionless grit.

 

Ron closed his eyes and walked up the stairs, the sound somehow solemn. They didn't even notice his absence.

 

“Harry,” James whispered softly. He caressed his son’s cheek (he fought a flashback of Moony’s devastated face), “I’m so, so sorry,”

 

“We’ll get through this,” he promised harshly, and Lily nodded avidly at the pronouncement. A tear slid down her cheek silently.

 

* * *

  


Draco knelt on the cool marble, blond head of hair bowed inwards, “My Lord, our team was successful. We have successfully infiltrated the ministry, and we have our followers in every important office. And most importantly; we managed to pull the blackmail over Thicknesse. He will do our bidding,”

 

He smiled slowly, cruelly, “Good, good,” he said softly. The Dark Lord pulled his black cloak from his face, smirking at his follower, “Remember; the blackmail will not hold over him for long,”

 

“If he ever shows signs of rebelling, either scare him into submission or make… a tragic accident,” he said softly.

 

“Of course,” Draco he said delicately,  “And, forgive me for asking... but what of my father, My Lord?”

 

Piercing green eyes bored into Malfoy’s, “What about him?” he said sharply.

 

“Is he still alive?”

 

A truly malicious smile shone on his face, “Of course, I promised you,” there was a pause, “Though he certainly wishes he wasn’t,”

 

Brief panic and devastation shone in Malfoy’s grey eyes before it vanished cleanly. He bowed his head in a sign of submission before whispering, “If I may be excused, My Lord,”

 

The Dark Lord nodded and waved his hand at the door, not before reaching with his magic. (broken, tugging towards a fixture that was _gone,_ and would be forever) He pulled at his follower’s mark brutally.

 

Draco tripped in thin air, gasping and covering the mark of his service (slavery) with the cool palm of his hand. He glanced back at his Lord fearfully and he gripped his shoulder.

 

He tensed with a grimace he quickly masked, terrified turmoil ravaging his insides.

 

Harry smiled thinly, “Don’t forget Draco, I own you,”

 

Malfoy sped through the door, still clutching the pitch-black lightning mark on his forehead as it _burned_ through his skull with a scorching heat.

 

He apparated as soon as he could and he landed outside his deceptively flourishing manor. The Malfoy heir strode in, choking on a cry as his forehead throbbed once more. The halls of Malfoy Manor sped past him in his urgency; and he made it into his bedroom, and more relevantly, his shower.

 

He scrubbed the phantom touch of his Lord away, the last time he had heard that fateful sentence when he was spread, eagle-tied on Harry’s bed. Draco could remember his Lord’s hand touch his chest with a dark inquisitiveness, pulling at a nipple. He could remember squirming away as he, frankly, begged and pleaded for it to stop.

 

The chilling words came back to him as he sobbed:

  
  
_“Don’t forget Draco, I own you,”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda short, but I hope you enjoy it <3
> 
> As always, Kudos and comments are always enjoyed :D
> 
> ~Katelynn Irene Lovegood

**Author's Note:**

> Oh goodness. Um... 
> 
> Yeah idk how this came out. I'm an evil author... I'm so so sorry... 
> 
> (I'm not sorry) >:)
> 
> Comments and kudos welcome! (obv)
> 
> ~Katelynn Irene Lovegood 🐍


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